svo hljótt ( so quietly )
by nothing-chan
Summary: Alfred once saw an angel dance in front of his window, writhing and twisting to the rhythmic pound of nature's heart beat, like wildflowers against his sandaled feet, and from that day forward, he believed so strongly in them that one angel twirled itself into his life, pearl-white wings trembling and entwining with his hands.


_svo hljótt - sigur rós_

* * *

"Is our house haunted?"

Matthew looked up from his organic, soy laden, wheat flake cereal and chewed thoughtfully at his brother.

"Don't tell me you saw the television turn on again, or a door close, or something that can easily be explained by science."

"No! It wasn't even that!" Alfred abandoned his own bowl of mush to thrust his spoon end into the table.

"Alright, well then no it isn't, at least not to my knowledge anyway."

Alfred mused in vexation as Matthew scrolled through his phone, barreling another tablespoon of carbohydrates into his mouth, busy with the weather, or the newest news story, or maybe even social networking, anything that was not his pensive companion, hair disheveled from lack of sleep, eyes dragged down like a cross behind him.

"Have you ever seen an angel?" Matthew glanced up again, viola eyes mirrored in the sunlight glare of his glasses.

"I didn't know you believed in angels?"

"I don't!"

"Stop asking weird questions then," Matthew stood up as the wood from his chair barked across the ground, car horn blaring outside. He pulled back the curtains, a small twinge of a smile on his mouth, eyelashes trembling as dust mites clung to his skin and floated visibly in the air.

"Francis is here to give me a ride, do you want to come or…" Matthew looked over, watching Alfred bite his lip in childlike thought, scratching the tentative curve of his nose.

"Nah, I think I'll walk," The long haired boy rolled his eyes, collecting his school bag, papers and binders saturated nicely inside.

"Alright, just don't get abducted by an angel," Alfred tossed his metal spoon across the kitchen, clattering across the floor and disturbing the early morning. Matthew dodged it and giggled in triumph under his breath.

"Shut up Mattie!"

The boy raced out the door, a hollow echo tailing him, leaving the house reverberating in a silence that shone off of Alfred's wheat locks and the unfinished, rushed math homework at his side, trigonometry lacking and riddled with small drops of milk.

Alfred touched a curve in the wood, fingernail jamming itself into a cleave in the old tree trunk, rottenness piling in between his skin and peeling off with every wriggling movement he made. The particles of forest crawled like maggots on his skin, and he left it to sit there as he wondered aloud in his own mind about angels.

Particularly, _an_ angel.

One angel he had seen with his own cloud reflected eyes, sometime in the early morning, awake while everything else slept.

He was stationed outside his window, sandaled feet slowly drowning in the dew of three A.M., white wings pearly in mist and clarity. As Alfred blinked and tugged at his tired and stale eyelids, the angel began to twirl, white gown lifting off of his pale legs and billowing around him, bouncing and twisting as he began to dance, air completely silent, ears picking up on a tune only he heard. His hands pushed into the wind around him, not slicing through it, but melting with it, satiating into it so he did not disturb the world around him, but blended with it, like a small dash of watercolor dropped into a cup, writhing and tinting the sky blue.

Alfred watched him leap and pirouette and stumble, eyes closed softly, face as unwavering as the glass of a lake. The angel cracked his eyes open, glimpsing the morning around him, wildflower tickling his toes, before freezing gauchely as his gaze fell upon Alfred in the open window, observing him and inhaling sharply as he was noticed.

There was a great burst of light, bathing the whole of his yard and the empty land around in a flash of white so nothing could be scene, or heard, or spoken. The angel was gone; ground still trembling in his wake, wildflowers whispering and Alfred losing his balance on the tips of his toes.

Alfred was about one hundred percent sure it was not a dream, but then again he was a little concerned as to why he cared so much, because he did not believe in angels, or gods, or any small creature dancing outside his window at the primal hours of the morning, poisoning him with the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

* * *

During English class, Alfred set down his copy of Hamlet and moved his attention to the window, his desk being the only one with a clear view of the outside, a prize he had to argue and beg and rock-paper-scissors for, knowing he would not have been able to survive the academic torment of Shakespearean literature without something to focus his mind on.

The outside never changed, occasionally drifting in various seasons of weather, but always marble under the expansive sky. One tree stood blooming on the campus, pointlessly shivering in the wind, finally starting to grow back the small buds and green growth that winter had stripped from it, looking abused and puerile and hopeless, something Alfred felt rarely as he twirled his pencil around his thumb and chewed on the scab over his lip.

But something had changed, and he noticed it the minute his eyes fell upon the steadfast vegetation, a small head hidden behind the bark, a set of wings masked by the girth of the trees base, green, green eyes latched to him from the world beyond the glass. Alfred let his lip slide out of his mouth, dangling in awe, unresponsive as he was called on, uncaring when the class belched out noxious giggles.

* * *

When the end of the day sounded, Alfred bypassed his locker, abandoned his Science Fair partner Kiku, forgot about baseball practice, and absconded straight for the tree, sneakered feet flopping, cowlick undulating in the breeze. There was not one single thing around the hardwood, but Alfred knew he would find something, if it was the thing he was searching for, he was not entirely certain. The world paled around him as he rounded the circular trunk, breath caught in his throat, frigid in his stance and unusually frightened of something so holy and pious, something that should not hurt him, but he quivered at anyway.

The grass was deserted and the land forsaken, completely barren, save nothing but a small dandelion attempting to survive, clutching to whatever salvation it had, overtaken by the onslaught of grass and trampling teenage feet. Alfred bent down, taking the stem between his fingers, twirling it until it leaked viscous juices from the inside and started to shatter under his immense pressure.

He began to wonder if what he saw was a faerie, a flower creature of some sort, when the branches above him cracked, child leaves quaking as a foot slipped and disrupted their rest. Alfred glanced up, and the angel paused, rabbit eyes the shape of saucers, captured in the bondage of branches and strapped down by the smell of charged blue eyes.

Alfred's tongue choked his throat and he watched the creature tremor in fear, wings furling and unwinding over and over as Alfred raked his eyes over his body, pulling into a ball and dangling off of one foothold nimbly.

The angel flinched back as Alfred picked the flower, mute and scrambling as he began to stand, keeping a watchful eye on the blonde, dandelion extended above his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

The white clad boy did not seem fully convinced, so Alfred pushed the flower ahead farther, dense gaze filled with grins. The angel flickered his eyes between the smile and the wildflower, lost and secluded in his tree house home, fingers trembling as he reached out to take the gift.

Alfred smiled when his warm peach fingers wrapped around the stem and brushed by his own.

* * *

_Hello._

_hahahaha I know this seems slightly positive for something I've written, but don't get your hopes up/worry, this is not just a one-shot! It will span about three to four chapters, a little short thing I did not want to cram into only one measly piece of work (nor did I have the time to)._

_One time I danced outside to a Sigur__ Rós song, sort of like Angel!Arthur did, and that's where the inspiration came from, at least I think. I just really love my baby angel ahhh h h hhh. I also love to torture him, fair warning, the M rating is here for a reason!_

___So please review, favorite, and stay interested!_


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